


Don't Starve Together (one shots and drabbles)

by CamietheCamel



Category: Don't Starve (Video Game), Don't Starve Shipwrecked, Don't Starve Together - Fandom
Genre: F/F, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Fluffy, Humor, M/M, Original Character(s), Suicide Attempt, WIP, Worry, australian detective, character disappearance, eh, more chapters soon, sad and depressing sometimes, these are just one-shots i guess, we'll see how it goes, yay
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-20
Updated: 2018-04-15
Packaged: 2019-04-05 08:18:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14040057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CamietheCamel/pseuds/CamietheCamel
Summary: A bunch of Don't Starve (Together and Shipwrecked) Drabbles and One-Shots (i think). Most of them will vary depending on which ship i write on.





	1. Introductions (and explanations)

Hello there! This is just going to be an intro to basically what this series is about. Well, it's more like a bunch of mixed fics about a fancanon story i made for Walani in a rp I used to be in. I shall explain :3 (also in this version, she's in the same plane as the other main characters, which is the wilderness. basically i'm saying the beach and wilderness are connected on the same land)

 

Before she was brought into the world of starvation, Walani lived in a rusty shack on an island on Samoa. She lived with her father, who was very weak and sickly at the time. Her mother had died early that year from pneumonia. Taking on the female role of the household, she cleaned and cooked for her and her father every day. She was hard-working and believed that hard work can get one anywhere.

When she was a young girl (about 9 years old) her mother crafted her a small surf board, and she attempted to ride the waves with it almost immediately. Unfortunately she surfed right into a group of box jellyfish, and she fell into the water due to her lack of experience in surfing. Afraid and panicked she tried to swim out of the water filled with jellyfish, but she was stung harshly by one and caused her leg to become paralyzed. Frightened she called out for help and her father, on his own surf board, rode out and rescued her from the water. They rode on their own boat to the nearest inland and attempted to get her a doctor. The doctor was able to extract the poison from her blood system safely, but the whole tragedy shook Walani and traumatized her since then. She has hated jellyfish to this day because of the intense pain of the poison. To cheer her up, her mother brewed her Honey Chamomile Tea, her favorite tea flavor. Since then Walani has carried a small bag of Chamomile Tea leaves in a pouch on her hip anytime she starts to feel panicked. Walani lived in the same rusty shack on the island a few years later. Her father died from his illness and left her alone to manage the shack. She made daily rounds to the inland to buy and sell goods at the market in Fiji. It would take her about over a week to ride there and back. She surfed at noon everyday to honor the day her mother gave her the surf board. The creatures on Walani’s island have cooperated well, as they remain neutral and do not harm her in anyway. On a rare instance, Walani had to fend off seagulls attempting to pick up the small snakes that lived under the shack. She gets along fine with nature because of this.

Walani was easily intrigued by gold or precious gems, as she does not see precious things as often as most people inland. She also had an interest for learning new cultures and had traded several items for books about Europe and the Americas. Since she is a home cooker, she knows many recipes as a professional French chef would. Although she does not make them as exquisite as a formal chef would, she makes them acceptable to taste. Around the same time, she met her one true lover, Welch. He was native to Australia, and worked as a homicide detective and traveled to solve cases. She fell in love with his physical strength and intelligence, as well as his charm. The two spent a good couple of years dating and they were very very close. Walani's gold earrings were given to her by him a few days before he mysteriously disappeared. His disappearance broke her heart, and she tried to cope with her emotional stress. After years on the island, she decided to venture out into the seas. After reading about European pirates, she decided (as well as her intriguing interest in gold) to explore the world as a pirate. She wanted to be special kind of pirate, so she used just her surfboard to ride around from island to island. In the moments just before she was abducted into the Constant, a whirlpool caused her surfboard and herself to drown into a portal that washed her up onto the sandy shores in the Constant.

So there's that. The info used to be from a roleplay group I was in, but am no longer a part of. Anyway, this will be a mix of ships also in this series. Welch is my Don't Starve OC and more will be revealed on him later (Besides being Walani's lover before the Constant). See you soon!

 

 


	2. Can You Hear Me Disappearing?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (WilsonxWalani)
> 
> Summary:  
> After several months in the Constant, Wilson finally manages to escape the Constant and it's shadowed iron hold on his life. However, he arrives back in his own world with four other people as well, and three people only: Wolfgang, Winona, Wickerbottom, and Walani. The only problem is, he's the only one with no memory of their time in the Constant... but the others do, especially Walani.
> 
> Warnings: Abandonment, unrequited love, loneliness, swearing, amnesia
> 
> Goes along to this song: https://youtu.be/ddfnnOnO08s

The Florid Postern shone brightly, the swirling wisps and winding dimensions twisted up space and time. Finally, it gave a sudden flash of blinding light and four bodies fell out of it. The moment they were tossed out the Florid Postern faded and vanished from sight, leaving them out on the street road leading to a city far off in the distance. They were all spread out unevenly in front of a small paved bridge.

Shaking off his head, Wilson shakily rose to his feet. He toppled backwards though from the disoriented feeling in his mind. He collapsed on the ground with his hands catching him. The palms of his hands hurt now, and he had the sudden urge to yell and shout profanity out loud. The only thing holding him back was the three other people in front of him.

"That could have gone a lot smoother..." Wickerbottom's scratched up voice spoke up, rubbing the back of her spine with a hand. "Such a confounded way to go... but beggars cannot be choosers, I'm afraid." 

Wolfgang flexed his muscles, checking to see if they were still "in tact". He smiled widely and with relief when he saw that his toned arms were still fit. "Ah, Wolfgang is happy. Muscles are still good!" he boomed with loud laughter. He looked to his left where Winona was lying upside down on her back, groaning in pain.

"Yeah, these muscles aren't getting any better thanks to that stupid portal!" Winona managed to choke out, opening one eye to look up at Wolfgang as she flipped herself onto her side. She landed perfectly on her hands and knees. "Is everyone doin' alright?" she asked, looking around with concern. Especially for Wickerbottom, the old soul, who looked as though she was having trouble getting up to her feet as well. 

Winona struggled to get her footing, and half-limped over to the elderly woman. She took her arm around under Wickerbottom's and helped her up. She looked over at Wolfgang, suddenly realizing they were missing someone.

A small groan came from behind the large man. Wolfgang looked behind him and gasped. "Oh no! Wolfgang is sorry! Did not see you there!" he panicked, getting up instantly and turning to see if the Pacificer was alright. Walani held her head with a hand and winced, but she was laughing weakly. "Yeah, yeah, big guy. I'm alright." she assured him with a nod.

Wilson regained his balanced and consciousness. He stared at all four of them, and began to feel oddly out of place. Who...

 

Who were these people?

 

Why were they with him? And where in the world was he? Why wasn't he in his run-down house? Where were his experiments? His equipment? Wilson shook off his head, and looked at them all with deep concern. "I'm...sorry...but...who are you?" He asked.

The other four stared at him with utter shock. Did he... did he not remember? 

"We... we all made it out, Wilson. Don't you remember? We finally got your transporter to work..." Winona said, her eyes wide and with disbelief.

"Yes! Machine worked and we got out alive!" Wolfgang added, his hands on his hips and head held high.

"I... I'm sorry, I don't follow... what?" Wilson felt his head pounding with a painful pang. He looked at the others with more terror now. How did he even wind up with these people? Where did _they_ come from?

Walani slowly stood up, her eyes full of genuine concern, and she walked up to Wilson with and extended hand. "Wilson... do you really not remember? We... we were all trapped in the Constant. Don't you remember a thing? Anything?"

Wilson clutched his head and felt his head starting to sting with the utmost pain. It was excruciating and he wanted it to STOP. "Look, I don't remember a f-f-fucking thing!" he shouted a bit, his words becoming nervous and shaky. He felt his lips trembling, and his hands were shaking too. He was sweating with uncertainty, and he was clearly unstable.

"You don't? But...but you must! Wilson P. Higgsbury, do you not remember all that we have been through? All that we have lost?" Wickerbottom spoke, her voice was weak and losing it's normal sharpness. "Do you really not remember all of the friends we have lost? Wigfrid? Wes? Willow? Wendy? No one? Do you not remember the horrifying ways our friends were taken from us?" she asked, the deepest fears growing rapidly.

"NO! No, I don't! I don't even know who you people are! Why the fuck are you even here? Why am _I_ even here? What did you fucking do to me?!" Wilson shouted, his hands covering his face and screaming.

"We are also friends of science man! Why do you not remember?" Wolfgang walked forward too, but Wilson only flinched away. He stared with scared eyes up at all of them.

"St-stay away from me! I don't know why you're following me or how you know me!" Wilson spat at them, holding both of his hands to his chest.

"It can't be... he's lost all memories of us..." Winona whispered, pressing her fingers to her lips. She felt a heavy weight drop onto her heart. This would mean that...

Wilson turned on his heel, facing the sunset behind them and where the brick road led. He didn't know where it would take him, but he didn't care either. He started to trudge forward and leave them behind.

Walani gently moved forward and took his hand quickly. "Wilson...do you not... remember me?" she asked, her eyes watering a little with small tears. "What we've been through? The pain and the hurt we endured together? Not just with me, but with everyone?"

Wilson wheeled around and jerked his hand out of Walani's. "Why don't you just butt out! Just disappear and never come back!" he yelled at her face, his eyes full of fury and scared confusion. "Don't you get it? I don't know who you are! I don't know who _any_ of you are! Stop acting like you know me when I don't know you at all!" he turned back forward and continued to walk towards the city. "Just leave me alone!"

Walani stood there, her eyes wide and her hand still outstretched. "...I...but..." her words failed her, and instead she just looked down at the ground.

Winona limped forward while supporting Wickerbottom. "It's alright, love. Maybe...maybe one day he'll remember..." she said, setting a hand on Walani's shoulder.

However, the surfer didn't speak. Nor did she turn around. She just stared ahead, and watched him go. She felt her chest tighten up with excruciating pain. Pain of losing something important...

Wolfgang got up and walked over to Walani, giving her a hug. "It alright. Wilson just confused, yes? It will be okay, you'll see. Do not want to see good friend sad." he told her, feeling just as sad.

Winon nodded, leaning her head against the large man's arm. Wickerbottom dipped her head and sighed. "All we can do now...is find a way to adjust to this world again..."

 

Walani simply nodded, laying her hand on Wolfgang's wrapped around her. She hung her head and started to cry, almost drowning out the comforting and soothing words from Winona.

 

One day, maybe, they would see Wilson again. And maybe then, would he remember them?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry if this was a sad first chapter ;-; but don't worry, there will be lighter and more happy ones too!


	3. Origin of an Actor (Mime)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wes/William/Maxwell
> 
> Warnings: swearing, violence (minimal), drinking

Wes stood at the back of the stage, feeling less than good about himself. It was always the same each performance day: everyone would cheer and clap for the major roles, and yet he was always ignored and forgotten as the minor role in each play. He was certain nothing would change, and he had no excuse not to keep trying.

He walked on the streets by himself, his coat buttoned up to his neck and a red and black scarf wrapped around his neck. He pushed the doors to the bar open and strides inside with silence. As he always does.

He sat down at the bar and waved the bartender over. "What can I get you?" the bartender asked, his ginger hair in it's usual untidiness. "The same, again?" he asked with a sigh. Wes grumbled. "Shit, do I even really need to tell you?" He told the bartender. "Easy, easy, I get it." The bartender smiled with arms raised, and turned to get his favorite alcohol.

"Did it not go well again? Or did they still not give you appreciation?" the bartender asked, leaning against the counter as Wes literally chugged the entire glass down with one swig. He set his glass down with slight force, causing the glass to ring loudly against the countertop. "Isn't it always the same damn thing?" Wes replied with a depressed, and rather irritated expression.

The bartender sighed and shook his head. "Maybe this just isn't the career for you." he told Wes. But the Mime shook his head quickly, with a pleading and pathetic look in his eyes. "No! I can't give this up. It's been my dream to be an actor." Wes told him. The bartender let out a heavy breath. "You know this isn't good for you. I know it's your passion, but you have to think about what's best for you. You're making a poor minimum wage doing this, and they don't even acknowledge you for your work."

Wes gave a frustrated sigh and laid his chin on the counter. "I don't even fucking know anymore..." He groaned, and pushed the glass towards the bartender for a refill. The bartender lifted an eyebrow. "You should be careful, you know. I'm not sure if you're fit to hold your liquor today." he told the depressed Mime.

But the discouraged actor shook his head and continued to push the glass towards the bartender, who finally shook his head and turned away with the glass in hand. "Better than wallowing in my goddamn pity." Wes whispered.

Wes felt miserable from the first glass, and his vision started to get a bit hazy. He was too dazed to even notice the seat next to him being taken by a very tall man with glasses and a top hat.

"Man! It's really chilly outside tonight! Whoa... say pal, you don't look so good." the man with the top hat said, as he took off said hat and held it with both hands. "You know you don't have to stress yourself out like this every day." he told Wes calmly, and with a look of sympathy.

Wes gave him a sideways look, but then rested his eyes on the glass placed in front of him. He was too tired to really reply at the moment. The bartender gave a Wes's head a light pat and then turned to tend to some other customers. The man next to Wes smiled at him fondly.

"I know how you feel. It's the same for me too, again." the man sighed and placed the hat on the counter. He rubbed Wes's back to comfort him. "Cheer up. You'll get noticed one day. You'll see. You'll do the greatest thing that will be known forever, and there's no one out there who can stop you." he told him.

Wes smiled weakly up at him, but shook his head and replaced his chin back on the counter. "It's just fucking pointless, William. Why even try? Those asshats will never noticed now or ever." Wes closed his eyes. "William" let out a heavy breath.

"I wish I could help you, but I'm useless as well." He told Wes. "Maybe we really aren't fit to be performers...." 

The two sat in uncomfortable silence until Will finally placed some notes down. "Here. I'll pay for your drinks. I've got to run now. Jack is expecting me over to his place. Gotta say hi to my nieces. I'll see you later then." He said with a small smile, and placed his top hat on his head.

Wes watched him turn and leave the bar. "Bye..." Wes whispered to himself as he watched his friend go.

 

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

 

"You can't shut the theatre down, Rodger! What about all of the actors' careers? We won't have anywhere to go!" Wes protested, slamming both hands on his manager's desk.

 "I'm sorry, Weston. But this is how it's going to be." Rodger told him with sadness in his eyes. "It's not like we can keep the theatre anymore. No one cares about this place, especially not after that new magic show started attracting our crowd away." He explained. "The Great M....my ass..." His manager mumbled.

Wes's eyes watered with disappointment and hopelessness. "I'm so sorry, Weston. I wish there was something I could do for you." He told the actor. Wes held up a hand.

"No. I'm fine. I can handle myself." He told him, and turned and left the office in a rush.

 

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

 

Wes sat alone on the curb of the streets, hidden in the back alleys. He was a nobody, as he always was, and now he was a homeless nobody. How was he going to find food? Make money? Fine shelter? He buried his face in his hands, trying hard not to cry and look weak.

 

He was so depressed in his thoughts he barely noticed a tall man approaching him from behind.

 

"Say pal... You don't look so good."

 

Wes's eyes widened as he turned around sharply to find his friend hovering over him. He looked different though, and he wasn't wearing his glasses. And... Was his suit another shade darker?

"William...what are you...why are you dressed like that?" Wes asked with slight curiosity.

"Oh. Can't you tell? I've managed to get my act together and start performing _real_ magic." His friend responded. "And please, call me Maxwell. I have rid myself of the past, as well as my old self." Maxwell smiled calmly.

Wes backed up a little and stared at him. "Wait...but then that means... _you're_ the one who's taken attention from the theatre!" He said with sudden shock and slight anger. Maxwell raised an eyebrow, and held a hand up to silence him.

"Ah, yes. Something that I did not intend to happen. I cannot control what the people want to see, Wes. Your run-down theatre wasn't making any profit, nor was it making any good impressions." Maxwell replied. "Forgive me, Wes. I thought you'd at least be happy to see me doing well."

"Well I _would_ if _I_ weren't doing so fucking  ** _poorly_**!" Wes retorted, his hands in fists now. He couldn't believe that while Willi-, or Maxwell now, was doing so well he was suffering and struggling to make a living. "Look, I'm happy for you. Really I am. But now I've got to support myself, and you aren't making my situation any better, dammit!" He told him bluntly.

Maxwell's expression did not change. He still stared at his friend with slight worry, and indeed he did feel rather sorry for him. "I'm sorry, Wes. My brother's apartment is available if you would like to stay there." He offered, but was only responded with a raised hand.

"No. I can do fine. **Alone**." Wes said, his eyes downcast and his jaw clenched a bit. He turned and walked away from his old friend, rain now starting to poor down hard. He walked into the streets alone, leaving Maxwell to stand in the rain.

How pitiful it was to think Maxwell was all but done with him.

 

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

 

A few years later, Wes had barely managed to make a home for himself. He lived in the backstage theatre changing room of a new theatre that had been built. It didn't give him the best pay for acting either, and it wasn't as neat as the previous one he had been in. But worst of all,

the theatre _still_ didn't recognize him for his performing skills.

As always, he was the "understudy", or "extra", or even the "stags hand". No matter what he did, he never got to set foot on the real stage.

Wes felt even more miserable than he had **before** his last theatre went out of business. He sat alone now, in the backstage, pondering about his future and career as another successful performance ended.

The actors returned, laughing and cheering about their fifth successful performance that day. "Two more performances at night and we'll be all good for the day!" The manager beamed, patting the lead actors' backs. "Now wash up and get ready for the play later tonight! I smell more money just waiting to fuel our performances!"

Wes made a small grunt and rolled his eyes. As if he needed any more reminders of how stuck up these actors were. He watched them all leave the room and turn the theatre lights off. He was now alone in the dark, with only his thoughts to comfort him. If only he were like them. If only he could show them what a real talented actor was like.

 

If only he could be a better actor.

 

Wes did not anticipate the voice that spoke to him. "Say pal, you don't look so good. So, you want to be a better actor, now do you?" It spoke like a slithering snake, hissing and agile as the words came.

Wes stood up from his spot, wheeling around through the darkness. "I-! What do you mean? Who the fuck are you?" Wes asked with both fists up, ready to defend himself. He looked around wildly in the dark, but he could see no one.

"Oh come now, Wes. You don't seriously expect me to answer that question when you already know the answer~" the voice whispered more insistently.

Wes stopped and listened carefully. He _did_ know who it was, and he knew why they were here. At least he thought he knew. "Have you come to mock me?" Wes snapped, glaring into the darkness. "To gloat? To pity me for the useless shitbag I've become?"

"Don't be such an idiot." The voice snarled back, causing Wes to cower away in fear. "That's more like it. Allow me to repeat what I asked earlier. Do you want to be a better actor?" The voice asked once more.

Wes knew way better than to trust things he couldn't see, let alone something paranormal. But his desire to be noticed, appreciated, respected, highly overpowered his sense of reason. "I...yes. I do."

"So easy, hm?" The voice purred. "And here I thought I'd have to actually put forth some _effort_ to pry an answer out of you." Wes could feel the darkness closing in on him. He didn't like the feeling. "What the fuck are you going to do with me?" Wes growled a little, and instantly regretted his tone.

"Be careful how you respond to me!" The voice retorted, almost in a rage. "I'll have you know that magic isn't just what I have embraced in the past few years."

Wes glared at into the darkness. "Well if you plan of 'magicing' me to success, you can sure as hell forget about all of this!" Wes snapped. He knew the second he shouted he had made a mistake.

"So you continue to treat your old friend with rudenes. Very well. You've always had a trash-mouth, Weston. I'll make you an actor all right." With a sudden rush of darkness, Wes was swallowed down into the shadows around him. It dragged him down, feet first, into the never-ending blackness of the shadows.

 

He woke up moments later on a soft, woven carpeting. It was purple, and had a lovely design. It looked almost too gorgeous to stand on. He struggled to his feet and glanced around him. Near him, were large robotic creatures with metal for bodies. They were asleep, but they looked very, very dangerous. Wes glanced about with panic, trying to get a hold on his new surroundings. Where was he now? This definitely wasn't home at all, nor was it the theatre back room.

"Ah yes. I forgot to mention that the Clockworks love the carpets I set out. Lovely, aren't they?" The voice spoke, but this time it was closer to Wes and more behind him instead of all around him. He turned to see a tall man of familiarity.

"Glad to see me?" Maxwell asked, a smug smirk on his face. It didn't fit for William at all, which was who Wes was used to seeing. Maxwell now wore something even _**darker**_ than he had before when he saw him last. Wes opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out at all. Instead, a dry and hoarse noise escaped his throat. Wes clapped a hand over his mouth in disbelief.

"Ha ha ha... I _did_ tell you I was going to make you a better actor, did I not?" Maxwell sneered. He summoned a slithering, black hand holding a handheld mirror, and he took it and held it out in front of Wes.

In his horror and shock, Wes gazed into the mirror to see his face covered in white matte with red circles for blush and black lipstick. His eyebrows were defined with lots of black charcoal, and his eyes had mascara and eye liner to further make his eyes 'pop'. He stepped back in horror, noticing white gloves on his hands. He looked down and saw that his entire outfit had changed.

Maxwell dropped the mirror to the ground, and the shadows swallowed it up. "As I said before, you always talk too much. Such foul language for such a good gentleman, don't you think?" He asked Wes, stepping forward and lifting the Mime's chin with a finger. "This will do you some good. You will learn to keep your mouth shut while also being a great actor." He released Wes from his hold and threw his head back, laughing. It was a hollow, almost empty, laugh. It had no sympathy or emotion in it.

Maxwell turned and started to walk away from Wes. Wes held his hand out as if to stop him. "I wouldn't move from that spot if I were you." Maxwell grinned. "The Clockworks get pretty sensitive about footprints on the carpet." With that he turned and walked straight into a path of swirling shadows. The next instant, he was gone.

Wes cursed silently in his mind, wondering what he had gotten himself into. He took a few steps to the left, but stopped as a Clockwork whirled to life. It turned and glared at him, charging up an electircal sphere of energy and tossing it in his direction.

With a scream (though ever so silent) the sphere hit his ribs and caused him to have an uncontrollable spasm. He fell to his knees, blood dripping from his mouth. He felt tears fall down his face, surprisingly not ruining his makeup at all.

Just how far was he truly willing to go just to become a great actor? Punishment? Sacrifice? Death? 

Wes felt his stomach churn with horrible, insatiable hunger. How much longer would he stay here until he grew weak from starvation? He could only pray that one day he'd find a way out if this situation, and fast.

 

Because all he knew now, was to stay alive.


	4. A Fine Line

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maxwell-William/Wilson, Wendy, Wickerbottom, Wes, Wigfrid
> 
> Warnings: Violence, Swearing, light yaoi (fluff)

Wendy watched idly by as Maxwell and Wilson picked up another fight, as usual. Last week it was about keeping watch at night, yesterday it was who would scavenging meat for Wigfrid, and today it was over the use of the Science Machine.

"You barely ever need to use it, Maxwell! You don't even give a shit about science!" Wilson raged, his hands in the air with frustration. 

"Just because I do not use it often does not mean it is dedicated for _your_ use only." Maxwell retorted, his eyes narrowed and his arms crossed. His complexion was a bit tired-looking and untidy. Probably from arguing with Wilson for the past hour over this.

"Hey, I built the _damn_ thing! Where were you? Oh, that's right, you were on the **FUCKING** throne asshat!" Wilson snapped, flashing Maxwell a good, vulgar gesture with his hands.

"MR. HIGGSBURY!" Wickerbottom scolded aloud, stopping her daily reading to look up at the two men.

"Sorry, Miss Wickerbottom. But this overgrown, egotistical, half-assed nimrod needs to learn a lesson in humility!" Wilson said through gritted teeth. He didn't even care that he had flipped Maxwell off in front of Wendy. Not that she probably cared anyway.

"For _your_ information, you _weren't_ the first to create that prototype, Higgsbury." Maxwell snarled, his eyes flashed dangerously and shadows leaking from his palms. "There have been others way before your time."

"Oh, and I'm going to guess it was probably _Wes_ who built the first science machine. Is that right? Because I know that all he's got is **helium** in his brain, Carter!" Wilson scoffed sarcastically. "No offense, but Wes can't even build a fucking paper airplane!" Wes looked up at Wilson from where he sat, and then hung his head in shame. Wickerbottom patted his back and gave Wilson a warning stare.

"No you moronic, prideful, little shit. I meant that even I have tried building your prototype. Has it been so long that you have forgotten who provided you with such knowledge to aid your survival here, Higgsbury?" Maxwell growled back, stepping closer to Wilson and staring him down.

Wendy hadn't said a word through all of this, but she was now backing away from the two men and closer to where Wigfrid sat.

"Öh, what's the matter Wendy? The öld böys scaring yöu, are they?" The actress asked with a fierce expression, her chest puffed out and her hand gripping her battle spear tightly. It looked like it could snap at any moment.

Wendy shook her head. "They're not scary. Just violent." She said blankly, not tearing her eyes away from her arguing uncle and his "friend".

"Nö wörries, Wendy dear! All fights are a börderline between **hate** and **löve**!" Wigfrid beamed, her right hand over her heart in a fist. Wendy sighed. She highly doubted that. After all, those two acted more like mortal enemies than fellow companions.

"Whatever! Just stay out of my fucking way, and I'll stay out of yours!" Wilson shouted, turning in his heel and began to fix the science machine...well, more like "upgrade" it. Maxwell scoffed and turned away from him. "That is perfectly fine by me." He sneered, and walked off to read pages of the Codex Umbra by himself.

Wendy hugged her knees, and stared at the two as they walked off. "Why do they fight each other all the time?" she asked Wickerbottom. The elderly librarian did not look from her book again. "Well dear, often times there will be people who do not care for others as much as they do themselves."

"Yeah! It's fine, they'll get back here later!" Wigfrid said with a triumphant smile.

Wes nodded where he sat, though he didn't really 'respond' to them.

\------------------------------------

Wilson sat opposite of Maxwell, his back turned from him and and was examining some blueprints for a Shadow Manipulator. Seemingly Wes was really good at building, and he was thinking about asking said mime for help. Maxwell also had his back turned to Wilson, sitting a good distance from him, and was reading pages from his Codex Umbra. Both were far from camp and more deep into the forest, so not to drag the others into more possible arguments.

 "And I thought that being an asshole was the only thing distinct about him. Well at least I know now that he's both an asshole AND a douchebag." Wilson grumbled as he tinkered with the gears and screws needed for the Shadow Manipulator.

It was silent for a long while, save for Wilson talking to himself, and for some time neither one of them turned around or made any move to interact.  
  
Suddenly Wilson slammed his fist into the ground in frustration. "DAMMIT!" he cursed angrily, the blueprint crumbled in his fist. Maxwell had jumped when he heard the loud shout of irritation, turning around to look over his shoulder at the distressed scientist.  
  
"Oh, what now Higgbury?" Maxwell grunted with a dull tone. It was pretty common to hear and see Wilson being stressed or tired. This wasn't anything new to him.  
  
Wilson hung his head at the ground with both hands on his neck, a loud and even more frustrated groan was muffled from Maxwell. "This goddman piece of shit!" he said with agitation, obviously fed up with trying anymore.  
  
Maxwell rolled his eyes. And he called himself a _scientist_. He sighed heavily and got up, brushing his suit and slacks off with both hands before walking over to the troubled man.  
  
He held his hand out for the blueprints. "Let me see them, Higgsbury." he told him with a bored expression. Wilson grumbled and handed over the blueprints with a pouty look. Maxwell unrolled the slightly crumpled up paper and gave it a look over.  
  
"Tch! The screws aren't supposed to be attached to the motor or the wiring. The fuel needs to be pure nightmare fuel, formulated from your own mind and fear." Maxwell scoffed with a monotoned growl. "You have the Piece A and Piece F bolts mixed up. The gem needs to be purple, not blue." he told Wilson before shoving the blueprints back into Wilson's arms.  
  
"Oh yeah, thanks a lot. That's a real help, prick." Wilson snarled back, snatching the papers from him with annoyance. "Fine, I'll figure it out myself." he said, scanning the paper with his eyes.  
  
Maxwell pinched the bridge of his nose with frustration. This moron was _never_ going to get anywhere if he didn't listen to his advice. He slightly shoved Wilson out of the way and laid the blueprints on the ground.  
  
"If you're really going to do this, then you're going to have to listen to me." Maxwell hissed, glaring at Wilson with a daring stare. Wilson crossed his arms. "Fine! If you're so smart then show me how to do it! I really don't give a shit at this point!" he said, throwing his arms in the air with surrender.  
  
Maxwell shook his head, and then he focused on teaching the ignorant fool how to build the damn thing.  
  
"First we need some Living Logs for the triangular structure. Do you have any with you?" he asked. Wilson dug around his pack, turning and shaking his head. Maxwell sighed. "Fine. We'll have to get some. Summoning a Tree Guard is the easiest way to go." he told him.  
  
Wilson gave a slightly panicked look on his face. "Wait, y-you want us to cut down a bunch of trees to... to summon a **Tree Guard**?!" he said with a shaking voice.  
  
"Yes, what part of my request did you not understand?" Maxwell growled, reaching into his own pack and pulling out an axe handle. He took the axe's blade head and firmly twisted it on. "We're going now unless you want it to be dark and too late to build this." he said with a challenging stare.  
  
Wilson bit his lip, then grabbed his own axe and fixed it before standing up. "No, I'll go. Don't think this will be easy without me!" he said with a scornful scoff.  
  
Boy was Maxwell going to hate this hunting trip.  
  
\------------------------------------

It was close to dusk when Wilson and Maxwell returned to their makeshift camp. Their little trip did not go without cost, and Wilson's arm was bleeding out profusely as they both staggered to the fire pit.  
  
"Well, that was a fucking disaster!" Wilson snapped at Maxwell, who was busy carrying the Living Logs with him.  
  
"Tch, only because you were the only moron to try and face it head-on." Maxwell retorted, dumping the logs on the ground. "We need seven purple gems now. I've already gathered some nightmare fuel on hand anytime I need to use the Codex Umbra." he told Wilson, glancing at the blueprints again to figure out what was next on the list.  
  
Wilson grumbled and sat down on the grass, wincing in pain as the wound started to burn like fire. "Shit shit shit shit shit!" he cursed several times, his eyes shut tight as he tried not to think about the pain. Maxwell glanced over at him, rolling his eyes.  
  
"Don't you have any spider glands or poultices on hand?" he asked the scientist with irritation. Wilson glared up at him, tears pricking his eyes from the intense pain.  
  
"No, I don't you asshole! You think I'm as smart as Wickerbottom? Of course I had those, but I used them while running from the fucking Tree Guard that **you** told us to summon!" Wilson retorted, giving a small yelp in pain as the wound throbbed again and causing him to shut up.  
  
Maxwell held his forehead with one hand, shaking his head with a sigh. "Fine, give me a moment." he said with a nonchalant tone. He turned to his pack and fished around in it, pulling some spider glands. He tightened the silk around them and worked with it until he finally created some healing salves.   
  
He turned to the injured Wilson. "Let me see your arm." he said with a firm voice. Wilson glared at him. "I can do it myself, idiot." he shifted away from Maxwell, but only to meet with more sheering pain and causing him to scream out.  
  
"Still think you can do it yourself?" Maxwell asked with a bored expression, waiting for Wilson to give in. Wilson snarled, but let his hand uncover the wound. The former magician was relatively shocked to see just how bad it really was.  
  
Wilson's arm had three, deep claw marks in his arm. The gashes were pouring out blood that dripped down Wilson's arm and staining the remains of his shirt sleeve. Maxwell shook the worried thoughts from his mind and set to work on tending to the wound.  
  
As he pressed in, Wilson shouted a muffled cry in agony as he covered his mouth with the back of his other hand. Maxwell glanced up at him and grumbled. "Sit still, will you? Unless you want the wounds to reopen later on." he said strictly.  
  
"Well I can't help it if it's stinging like Hell!" Wilson snapped back, the tears were still pricking the corners of his eyes.  
  
Maxwell hung his head and sighed. What a difficult patient. He'd make a horrible bed-ridden old man one day.  Ignoring this, he continued to wrap the salves and suppress the pouring blood. Once he had finished, he stared at Wilson with a weary glare. "So since you're clearly out of commission, I'll have to finish the damn machine myself." he told the latter with a not-so-satisfied stare.  
  
"Um, like Hell you are!" Wilson argued back, making a move to get up. Maxwell wasn't standing for it, and pushed him back onto his back. "Oh yes I am. Do you want to make your arm bleed again?" the other asked with a snarl.  
  
Wilson glared up into Maxwell's eyes, but stayed sitting. "Fine." he snapped back, crossing his arms with a pout. This actually caused his wounds to sting again, but not reopen. It was enough to force a small yelp out of him.   
  
Maxwell smirked. "Exactly." he said bluntly, before heaving himself off the ground and picking the Living Logs up from the dirt. "Just sit there and don't touch _anything_." he warned with a dangerous stare. Wilson snorted with contempt, and stuck his tongue out at him when he turned around.  
  
The fucker was so arrogant that Wilson could have strangled him right there and then.

\------------------------------------  
  
A good few moments later and a new fire crackling in the fire pit, the Shadow Manipulator was nearly complete. Maxwell had left a few moments ago to dig some gravestones for gems. Either that or it was provoking a Dragonfly, and there was no way Maxwell wanted to end up like Wilson.  
  
Wilson sat alone in the dark near the fire pit, his eyes trained on the fire flickering and waving gracefully in the midnight air. He could feel his eyelids growing tired, but he forced himself to stay awake in case Charlie decided to pay him an unwanted visit.  
  
He listened to the night wind, the howls of hounds far, far away from their location. Not a threat at the moment, for it wasn't just yet the time for them to attack. He heard rustling here and there from all around him, his paranoia growing slowly each passing moment.  
  
He held on to his axe tightly, his body shivering not from the cold but from dread. He certainly hoped that nothing was out there to attack him. Maxwell was in a way stronger state them him at the moment, and now was a horrible time to be alone and vulnerable  
  
The sudden sound of approaching steps startled him, and Wilson started to grow more and more aware of his surroundings. He stood up on shaking legs, axe firmly in hand. He listened carefully, calculating which direction the steps were echoing from.  
  
Five seconds...  
  
Ten seconds...  
  
thirty seconds...

A minute...  
  
It took a long time for him to finally relax once the sounds stopped. He was about to sit back down when the footsteps were suddenly behind him. Panicked, he swung the axe behind him as he wheeled around to face his dreaded fear.  
  
Maxwell gripped Wilson's wrist as the axe swung his way. "I leave for five minutes and you've already gone insane." the former magician sneered, his grip tightening on Wilson's own wrist.  
  
Wilson jerked his hand away from Maxwell's hold. "Shut up! It's bad enough that it's night time but I'm still alert from that damn Tree Guard, which was **YOUR** fault by the way!" he snapped back.  
  
The two stood glaring at each other for a while until Wilson finally gave up and turned away from the latter, laying the axe gently in the ground where he used to be sitting.  
  
"Well either way, I have retrieved the necessary items for the Shadow Manipulator. We, or rather I, will begin with it's construction while you sit there and try not to rip open your injuries." Maxwell scoffed as he picked the blueprints off the ground.  
  
Wilson rolled his eyes, but he knew Maxwell was right. He almost strained his wounds again just by swinging the axe at him. "Fine, but you'd better not stray from the blueprint's instructions!" he said with a huff.  
  
Maxwell gave the scientist an indignant glare. Well fine, he wouldn't "stray" from the plans. But if Wilson kept bothering him as he worked he may as well make it so it would do something rather nasty to the younger man.  
  
A couple of hours went by and Maxwell had not strayed from said plans, mainly because Wilson was closely watching him in an uncomfortable way. He was glaring and focusing on each movement and tool that Maxwell used, keeping his eyes on the progress of the Shadow Manipulator.  
  
Eventually Maxwell had about enough of the ridiculous oversight. "Will you cut that out, Higgsbury? I am _not_ straying from the plans as you said!" he snarled over his shoulder.  
  
"I don't trust you, obviously!" Wilson retorted, his arms crossed over his chest and sitting hunched over the fire. "After what I know about you there's no way I'm leaving anything up to you unless it's with someone else!"   
  
Maxwell grumbled with an annoyed grunt. "Well I'm almost finished, so there's no need to be watching me anymore!" he told him, hoping he'd get the scientist off his chest for once.  
  
Wilson narrowed his eyes at him suspiciously, and lucky for the former magician the naive man took the prompt. "Fine. But it better not backfire or anything!" he warned, turning away from Maxwell and staring at the flames dancing in the fire pit instead.  
  
"Good riddance..." Maxwell mumbled, returning to his work and nailing some of the boards together.  
  
\------------------------------------  
  
It was a little closer to dawn when Maxwell had finished the contraption. "About damn time..." the older man huffed, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand. He hadn't gotten an hour of sleep, and surprisingly neither had Wilson. Speaking of which, he hadn't heard a complaint from the man since he had finished his work.  
  
"Higgsbury?" he glanced behind him, finding it hard to believe that the moronic young man would be silent for so long.  
  
Which was indeed hard to believe, because said man was no where in sight.  
  
"Wha-! Higgsbury!" Maxwell wheeled around, glancing around their makeshift camp rapidly and with disbelief. Did he walk away? Was he collecting materials and walked off without telling him? Or did he possibly get taken by Charlie without his knowledge. So many scenarios played through his mind as he tried to figure out what might have happened to the stupid scientist.   
  
He rushed away from the finished machine and about five feet from the camp, his hands cupped around his mouth as his eyes darted around to search for the missing companion.  
  
"HIGGSBURY!"   
  
Now was _not_ the time to be panicking over that arrogant man, and yet here he was frantically screaming said man's name. Why should he care? He was just another mouth to feed and monitor.  
  
But each passing minute he grew more and more anxious. There was no way Wilson could have possibly snuck away without him knowing. Yet he had done just that, and now Maxwell was becoming less and less cool about the scientist's absence. The fool was defenseless, as he noticed Wilson's axe was still lying it the same place it had last night. He was also still recovering from his injury, which added more major concern for Maxwell.  
  
He was an inch closer to losing it, and he was pretty sure he didn't want to seem weak by giving in to fear. He rushed back to camp and was about to pack several things needed to find him, when he heard the snap of a twig behind him. He wheeled around, and for a split second he was thoroughly relieved.  
  
Until he stormed up to the missing scientist and slapped him hard across the face. The latter toppled over and fell to the ground as Maxwell rushed forward and grabbed him by the collar.  
  
"WHERE IN THE DEVIL'S HELL HAVE YOU BEEN?!" Maxwell's expression was fueled with fury and utter anger, making Wilson cower a bit.  
  
"I-I went back to the main base! I was going to ask Wigfrid or Wickerbottom if there was anything they needed there so t-that we could retrieve it while we were out here!" Wilson stammered, his eyes wide and his face full of shock mixed with fear.  
  
Seeing how distraught Wilson looked, Maxwell released his hold on the younger man's collar. Wilson slowly lifted his hands to his collar and adjusted it, his eyes still wide and trained on Maxwell.  
  
Maxwell turned away from him and dropped the weapon he had planned to pack on the ground. "Don't be a fool next time! You had me worried! Tell me where the bloody hell you're going before you just up and disappear like that." he snarled at the other, stomping back over to the Shadow Manipulator.  
  
Wilson felt mortified, but he calmed down after a very specific thought.   
  
"You...were worried about me?" he asked curiously.  
  
Maxwell froze, then turned around and glared. "Don't you dare get the wrong idea, Higgsbury." he snarled. It was too late, however, because Wilson was smiling a little.  
  
"And all this time I thought you were a soulless prick~..." Wilson grinned, on the verge of laughing. A harsh stare caused Wilson to shut up and stop smiling.  
  
"If you take it the wrong way I will not hesitate to send you to another part of this world." Maxwell warned, his eyes narrowed at him.  
  
Wilson shrugged. "Well fine. Still going to keep this in my memory, though." he said with a smirk. Maxwell turned and walked back over to Wilson until he was an inch away from him.  
  
"I'm warning you, Higgsbury..." Maxwell growled in a low, hushed voice. Wilson stared at him with just the same amount of stubbornness.  
  
"Fine then. Warn me. It's worth it." Wilson retorted with a smug smile, crossing his arms and tilting his head up as a challenge.  
  
"You asked for it." Maxwell hissed back. He firmly grabbed both of Wilson's arms and pressed in, planting a light and blissful kiss on Wilson's lips.  
  
The scientist was too shell-shocked to even react, and stood there allowing Maxwell to kiss him. The two broke apart and Maxwell turned away, walking back to the Shadow Manipulator. Wilson was left standing with his mouth open.  
  
"Next time be careful what you say, Higgsbury." Maxwell taunted, a smile laced on his face. Wilson lightly touched his lips with his fingers.  
  
  
Oh yes. He'd be careful next time. On _his_ standards.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was longer than expected, but I'm proud that I finished it!


End file.
